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GopyiiglrtN" l?_5l 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



POEMS 



GRANT McGEE 




BOSTON 

The Gorham Press 
1914 



Copyright 19H, by Grant McGee 
All rights reserved 



^2. 






The Gotham Press, Boston, U. S. A. 



<6'CI,A.*J8S177 
OCT 30 i&l4 



To 
My Father and Mother 

These Poems 
Are Lovingly Dedicated 



CONTENTS 

To You, My Mother 7 

Spring's Breezes 8 

His Recompense 9 

Sonnet 10 

A Magical Wine 11 

I'm Going to Sleep 12 

The Only Life for Me 14 

To My Mother and Father 15 

Sunset's Serenity 16 

'Tis All I Ask 17 

The Voices of TwiHght 18 

Pearl 20 

'Tis Water Still 23 

The Crowds 24 

Song of the Streets 25 

Out There 27 

The Ruins 28 

If I Had Only Known 30 

Shakespeare 31 

Song of the Spring 32 

Sunrise 33 

The Rose's Answer 34 

The District Schoolhouse 35 

The Toiler 37 

The Immortality of Poetry 38 

The Dabbler 39 

The Individual 41 

The Brook 42 

Too Late 43 

To a Dog 44 

Out of the Darkness 47 

To a Squirrel 48 

There was a Time 49 



CONTENTS 

Rur Rur Re 50 

God is Music 51 

'Tis Love 53 

Vows of Love 54 

Tranquillity 55 

Life's Toll 57 

Love's Rose-Twined Bowers 58 

Help Us to See 59 

The Wee Bird 60 

Thy Will be Done 61 

Love is Dead 62 

Deceived 63 

Mv Sweetheart 64 

The Old Swimmin' Hole 65 

Sonnet 67 

'Tis but My Spirit 68 

Wait! 69 

Sonnet 70 

To a Beautiful Young Lady 71 

The Poet 72 

Christmas 73 

The Egotist 74 

Loved I Thee More 75 

As the Sun Rises 76 

We Feel 77 

Our Country 79 



POEMS 



TO YOU, MY MOTHER 

My flowers are few 

And yet such as they are 
I bring to you, 

My Mother. 

No gorgeous hue 

Have they, nor perfumes fling 
As many do 

Yet gladly do I bring 
Them now to you, 

My Mother. 

I always yearned 

To bring you fairer flowers 
And often burned 

My simple pinks in frantic hours 
Because I knew 

Within my youthful bowers 
No flowers grew 

Worthy of you, 

My Mother. 

Yet well I know 

Though they be few, 
Such as they are 
I owe to you 
And so 
My garden's garlands 
Now I bring to you. 

My Mother. 



SPRING'S BREEZES 

O, the gentle spring's soft breezes, 
Tranquil breezes — 
Balmy breezes, 
How their soothing sweetness pleases 
Our bosoms, and pain eases 
With endeavor to adorn 
Fragrant bowers of the mom. 
Fairy mom. 
Fancy's mom. 
How the laughing of the breezes 
Every meadow early seizes 
Banishing all things forlorn. 
O, the merry, fairy breezes 
Flinging perfumes; flowers mom teases 
While their petals fresh and fair 
In the arms of loving air 
Half-protesting are caressed. 
Now the grasses from their rest. 
Lifting sleepy, half-oped eyes 
View the over smiling skies; 
And the lover nightly hiding 
'Mongst sad sighs, to mom confiding 
Feels the thrills of hope come gUding 
To his heart with cheering word 
That his pleadings may be heard, 
On this day she may be stirred 
To accept him by the breezes 
Of the balmy spring's soft morn. 



8 



HIS RECOMPENSE 

A simple city gardener was he 

Who with worn, wrinkled hands took care of 
flowers. 

Attending fatherly to every need 
Their beauty felt that multitudes might flee 
The dusty, suffocating streets and see 

Within his blooming park true nature's bowers 

Where pain-gnawed mortals resting cease to 
bleed. 
Laved lovingly by fountain purity. 

Day laborers flocked there to spend their hours 
On Sunday with their families, to feed 
Toil-wearied souls on food and drink indeed, 

Of smokeless atmosphere. That life devours 
Men gradually they forgot, while he 
Behind a clump of roses watched their glee. 



9 



SONNET 

Incorrigible heart of mine, why do you seek 
In spite of reason's dictates dreary ways, 
Where woeful anguish demon master stays 

Attended by vile slaves, — where mortals shriek, 

Scourged ceaselessly with leaden whips ? O , speak , 
Are gloomy fens more dear to you than hills 
Arrayed in saffron gowns of sunset's thrills, — 

You choose soul smarting pains hell's servants 
wreak ! 

Come, view with me soft sunlight of calm days, 

A tranquil soothing spirit light that fills 
Earth's fields and crowded streets with peace 
till praise 
Arises even from still stones, — instills 
Divine contentment, love, — makes strong the 

weak 
With hope. Inhale no more despair's rank reek. 



10 



A MAGICAL WINE 

From her lips I sipped a sparkling wine, 

Wonderful wine indeed 
For it changed this youthful life of mine 
Into something half man, half divine. 
Magical wine, indeed. 



11 



I'M GOING TO SLEEP 

I am going to sleep 

Where soft slumber will keep 
My heart from fear and sorrow; 

I am going to rest 

With no thought in my breast 
Of what will come tomorrow. 

I have wept all the day 

In a passionate way 
Because my hopes are broken; 

In my anguish I've said 

That I'd rather be dead. 
What foolish words were spoken ! 

'Tis a pleasure to know 

That to rest I can go, 
Forget life's strife in sleeping — 

And the joy will be mine, 

I will cease to repine 
And quit my futile weeping. 

I will turn out the light 

And invite shades of night 
To come and linger round me; 

With a smile in my eyes 

I will look at the skies 
Till Morpheus god has bound me. 

Many melodies sound 
In this realm I have found 
Of pure heart-tranquil pleasure; 
Gleeful fairies are here 



U 



Bringing love's blessed cheer 
In fancy's dancing measure. 

Fare thee well, cruel Care, 
I'll return to thee ne'er — 

To sleep my heart is going. 
In the morning I'll rise 
With love's hope in my eyes. 

And mirth I'll e'er be knowing. 



13 



THE ONLY LIFE FOR ME 

I'd like to be a sailor on the rolling sea 
Sailing along with a merry song. 
O, that's the life for me. 

I'd like to be a j&sher fishing in the sea, 
Fishing all day in a bomiding bay. 
O , that's the life for me. 

I'd like to be an artist painting of the sea 
From morn till eve, I'd never grieve. 
O, that's the life for me. 

I'd like to be a poet writing of the sea. 
Writing all day for little of pay. 
O, that's the life for me. 

But I'd rather be a lover loving only thee, 

Within thine arms, earth's sweetest charms. 
The only life for me ! 



14 



TO MY MOTHER AND FATHER 

As when I strive to write of God my pen 

Now falters smitten by the thought of how 

Inadequate are human words to tell 

These thrills divine. I feel within me well 

Deep fountains of my love — what yearnings swell 

E'en unto bursting! Yet I cannot tell 

For some strange lack of words has griped me 

now 
And I but mutter, fail, and strive again. 

In boyhood's days I climbed upon your knees, 

A little ignorant thing; but then I knew 

Far more than now for when I felt you seize 

Me in your arms I told my love for you 

In kisses. Let me flee grown thoughts of men 

And climb upon your knees, a boy again. 



15 



SUNSET'S SERENITY 
Sonnet 

When Phoebus 'mongst rose-colored realms de- 
clines 
Yon crimson skies serenely tranquil seem 
A gleeful garden where my heart may dream 

And visit wondrous sparkling structures, shrines 

Where Cupid reigns — reposing 'neath long vines 
That bow with luscious fruit unto love's stream 
Caressed by rippling purity. Each beam 

About my weary soul with kisses twines. 

Low twilight melodies from out joy's breast 
On fancy's filmy wings soft, soothing calm 
Waft over mortal restlessness, a balm 

That eases pain until in peace I rest 

And wonder why my heart has ever sighed 
For sweets Elysian. Lo! in sunset's seats they 
bide. 



16 



'TIS ALL I ASK 

A smile ! 'Tis all I ask today, — 
A smile to drive my doubts away. 



17 



THE VOICES OF TWILIGHT 

Softly, slowly, sadly while the evening breezes 
blow 
Comes a strange, mysterious melody 
With a plaintive, mournful harmony 
That glides into our bosoms in a way we do not 

know 
Till entuned our hearts are trembling with the 

sadness of the sound 
Forth we rush to find the singer — human singer 

is not found 
'Neath the stars in heaven beaming on the shadow 
checkered ground. 
But still that music thrilling 
Throbbing breasts with love is filling, 
Wondrous love for unseen fairies gayly dancing 
all aroimd 
Until now their songs are joyous as the balmy 

days in June, 
And our youthful hearts are bounding with the 
fancy of their tune. 



18 



They've fled! The twilight voices scarcely heard 

by yearning ear 
Have departed with the coming of yon silent, 

silver moon 
And as when a friend forsakes us whom our hearts 

have held most dear 
Longing stand we in the shadows for those 

voices fled too soon, 
Fled into the blackness of the forest's giant gloom, 
Fled because they could not 'scape their destiny, 

our doom. 

But why lament, O, heart of mine, for they'll come 

back to you 
With the coming of another eve. O, think 

them not untrue. 
Lie down to rest in quietude and dream the hours 

away 
For soon you'll hear their songs again of blending 

sad and gay. 



19 



PEARL 

She was ready to be married, 

Beaming girl 
In a gown of laces varied 

Clear as pearl; 
With her girlhood friends she tarried 

Waiting for her Earl. 

Through the dusk a rider hurried 
With his brow drawn, anxious, worried 
For within his coat he carried 
These last words (the Earl was buried) 
*'E'en in death I am thy Earl, 
Art thou too in death my Pearl?" 
These last words the rider carried 
To the girl. 

Soon he saw the lights outgleaming 
As of gleeful spirits dreaming, — 
From his face hot tears were streaming 
And his heart was sorely harried 
By the message that he carried 

From the master, lover, Earl, — 
By the pain his words would hurl 

On the girl. 

Through the windows girlish singing 
To the night young love was flinging 
In soft tones with rapture ringing 
As the rider halted sadly 
Listening to them singing gladly, — 
Knowing how they'd hear him madly, 
Hear the message of the Earl 
To his Pearl. 

20 



From his horse he then dismounted, — 
Sighing deeply, up he mounted 
On the steps — each step he counted 

By the beating of his heart, 

By the dropping of the blood within his heart 
At the thought of what deep pain, 
Never to be raised again. 

His sad message from the Earl 

Would hurl down upon the girl, 
On the brightly beaming Pearl. 

In the midst of merry singing 
Came a hush — the girl was clinging 
To the rider who was bringing 

Her across the polished floor. 
Then in ghastly tones he uttered 
While their lace hid hearts fast fluttered 

And their eyes stared more and more, — 
In low accents then he uttered 
The last message of the Earl 

To the tottering girl, his Pearl. 

When the last death word was ended 
For a moment silence blended 

With the beating of their hearts — 
Then shrill girlish voices weeping 
Made the rider's heart go leaping; 

And the girl by myriad darts 
Pierced and broken wildly crying. 
Fell upon the floor fast dying. 

Crying, "As in life e'en so in death, my Earl, 
I am evermore thy Pearl!" 



21 



Then the rider pained and worried 
From the scene of weeping hurried 

Out across the blackened land, 
Seeking flight from fears that harried 
Him because death- words he carried. 

Lo ! two spirits hand in hand 
Gowned in white from foot to head 
Past him shuddering, laughing, sped 

Whispering gayly: *'Earl!" *'My Pearl!' 
Past him flew with deathless whirl. 



22 



'TIS WATER STILL 

A pool of stagnant water, and yet 'tis water still 
E'en though it long has ceased to ripple down the 

hill. 
A slimy, greenish scum is there upon its nauseous 

face 
And it has seemingly lost all its former grace; 
But yet, 'tis water still. 

Green bugs and frogs in glee sport round on every 

side 
Whirring, croaking, and snakes now wriggle and 

slide 
Into the spongy surface tracing paths along. 
How different from the murmuring forest song! 
But yet, 'tis water still. 



23 



THE CROWDS 

I sing of the rushing crowds, 
Endlessly tearing crowds, 
Ceaselessly thronging crowds 

That tramp through the streets. 
I sing of the city's thousands, 
Intermingling and blending thousands. 
Of good and of evil thousands 

That throb through the streets. 

These are the beings. 

The beings that have life, 

The givers, the takers, the makers of life. 

The causes of buildings, of streets, and of life. 

Here is the power of life. 
Woe to the man who resists such a power — 
He will be ground into pieces, — 
He will perish beneath the feet of the crowds. 



24 



SONG OF THE STREETS 

Tramped upon, rolled upon hour after hour. 

Day after day, — 
Ceaselessly smitten by traffic's vast power 

Naught do we say. 
Just bear whate'er burdens upon us are hurled — 

'Tis the way of the world. 

Sometimes we're wounded e'en unto our hearts, 

Pierced by this power. 
Then street-form surgeons attend to our parts 

Hour after hour 
Until we are able to bear what is hurled 

By the ways of the world. 

Ours is a calling — though often scorned small. 

Lowest of low — 
Deemed by the wise most essential of all 

Duties men know. 
Why, we on our shoulders like Atlas of old 

This great earth-sphere uphold. 

Carelessly, thoughtlessly, multitudes tread 

Day after day 
Over our bosoms, — ^yet when they are dead 

Still we shall stay 
Upholding the burdens by mortal minds hurled, 

'Tis the way of the world. 

How do the great of earth's creatures proceed 

Day after day? 
Over our bodies to every great deed, — 

This they will say. 
Their feet on our muscles we ever uphold. 

Of the young and the old. 

25 



Blame us not when filthy crime comes our way 

Hour after hour; 
Hideous demons from hell-pit may stray 

Over our power, 
But we must uphold whatever burdens are hurled, — 

'Tis our task in the world. 

Poverty stricken and wealthy pass by 

Day after day, — 
Laughter, low moanings, and many a sigh — 

Pleasure's array. 
All these on our shoulders alike must be hurled 

By the ways of the world. 

Up from our beings complainings ne'er rise, 

Nor do we sigh. 
We have as noble position as skies, 

Why should we sigh ! 
We're glad we can bear whate'er burdens are 
hurled — 

'Tis the way of the world. 



26 



OUT THERE 

Out there beyond this noisy strife for gain 

I'd lay me down in peace and rest; 

I'd harken to the birds and calm my breast 
Now throbbing with emotion's pain. 

Out there where love supreme abides 
I'd stroll at early morn and sing, 
I'd trip amongst the roses fair that fling 

Their perfumes forth, — where love no solace hides. 

Out there apart from me, myself, vile wretch, 
I'd grow again, a creature formed anew — 
I'd breathe the woodland air and sip the dew; 

Out there I'd nod and yawn and stretch. 

Out there my dreams I'd dream once more; 

I'd revel in my childhood's glee, — 

I'd feel my youth's felicity, 
Out there I'd heal this heart all torn and sore. 

Out there, O God, just for one happy hour 
I'd give my life. Ah! life would not be 
SuflBcient pay for sights these eyes would see 

Out there, released from sin's black, biting power. 



27 



THE RUINS 

Only the ruins are left 

Of the walls, 

Tottering walls 
Of stately strength by fire bereft. 
With every gust of wind there falls 

A brick or stone 

With sullen moan 
Upon the sodden ground, 

With dismal sound 
Reverberating round and round 

Till even the silence shivers 
And quivers 
At the melancholy sound 
To despondency fast bound. 

Through the windows peers the moon 
With startled face 
On the lonely place, — 
A strangely seeming moon 
Through the jagged windows peering 
While the shadows shuddering, fearing 
Strive to flee the gloomy sight 
To black corners of the night. 



28 



Now the howling, growHng winds 

With their dreary might 
Grasp the shaking, quaking minds 
Who are wandering in the night 
And with woeful, doleful wail 
From the ruins moan their tale 
Of a maiden who was wed 
To a man whose love was dead, — 
How this hideous monster led 
Her to the altar where he said 
Lie on lie, — and how he fled 
This forsaken maiden leaving 
Her alone with bitter grieving 
Staggering 'mongst the tottering ruins. 
Dying in the dismal ruins, — 
Crushed at last beneath the ruins. 

Then her awful cry ascending. 
With the winds of heaven blending 
Formed these moans of horror rending 
Every hearer, through him sending 
Icy chills his heart's blood freezing. 
All his being madly seizing 

With despair. 
As he looks upon the ruins 

Trembling there, — 
As he wonders at the ruins 

Tottering there, — 
As he shudders at the ruins 

Groaning there. 



29 



IF I HAD ONLY KNOWN 

If I had only known ! 

How oft I groan 

And moan, 

If I had only known. 

If I had only known 

The stone I threw 
At you 

So many years ago 

Would harm you so ! 
If I had only known. 

If I had only known 

Then now I'd own 
A friend 
Whose tender love for me 

Would never end; 
If I had had the power to see — 

But as it is I moan, 

If I had only known. 

What a fool I am! 

I should have known 
My deed would damn 

My life to one long groan. 
I should have known — I could have known 

If I had cared to know. 
A coward am I beneath this crushing woe 
To whine : If I had only known. 



30 



SHAKESPEARE 

Deep reader of man's inmost motives, thou 
Who pierced with scrutinizing gaze so far 
Into his soul of souls no sin seared scar 

Escaped thine eye; who heard him wildly vow 

His vows of love and hate, perceived his brow 
With passion's fever fraught, — life's ceaseless 

war 
Against results that naught on earth or star 

Might turn, — and watched him 'neath his burdens 
bow. 

The highest artist, thou, of noblest art 
To master minds revealed by poet God; 

Thou deathless teacher of immortal fact; 

Star of the East to guide the human heart 

Along straight paths o'er rocks or pleasant sod. 

Thou warnest man to guard life's every act. 



31 



SONG OF THE SPRING 

Song of the spring 

Sung low and sweet 

With blending sounds of children's feet 
Merrily tripping from woods to bring 

Their fragrant offering 
Of flowers 

To mirth's cosy bowers. 
How beautiful thou art! 

Song of the spring. 
Of balmy leas 

Entwined by soft, caressing breeze 
Kissed by the bees thy low murmurings 
sing; . 
On wafting wing 

Of glee 
Thou comest to me. 
Into my youthful heart. 

Song of the spring, 

A tingling stream 

Of throbbing notes as in a dream 
Lovingly gliding o'er everything 

Aroimd me ring 
Until 

I feel love's true thrill. 
How beautiful thou art. 



32 



SUNRISE 

'Twas on a gentle slope at dawn I stood 

Out o*er a lake's calm bosom gazing far 

Into morn's skies where lingered one lone star 

Above the shadows of a silent wood. 

A few brief moments — then a wondrous light 
Up from the crystal surface bursts, behold 
The sun through laces spun of burnished gold 

Arise. Lo — how the waters ripple bright. 

Upon the dew adorned slope I kneeled 
And felt within wiy heart a new desire 
To drink into my soul the rosy fire 

Of glory God at that quiet hour revealed. 
I viewed pink clouds reflected there upon 
The lake's clear breast and murmured, God — 
thy dawn. 



33 



THE ROSE'S ANSWER 

In my garden there blooms a little rose 

With petals of crimson hue. 
By its side every day a brooklet flows 

Beneath smiling skies of blue, 
Softly sighing, "There'll soon fall wintry snows,- 

What then, little rose, will you do? " 

Chorus 

What will happen when snows of winter fall 

I do not care to know, — 
I am listening to the red birds' call — 

Hark how morn's zephyrs blow. 
Not a fear of the snow annoys at all 

So please be still, and flow 
With a murmuring song on your way along 

Nor sigh any more of snow. 

Through my garden the brooklet slowly flows 

Each ripple a merry song. 
Never sighing about the wintry snows 

For sighing it knows is wrong. 
Dancing gleefully by the crimson rose 

It hears as it glides along. 



84 



THE DISTRICT SCHOOLHOUSE 

In my mind there hangs a painting 

That my heart dehghts to view 
Of a httle district schoolhouse 

'Neath a cloudless sky of blue, 
And with fondest recollections 

All these years I'm peering through 
To the time when I was happy 

Loving, being loved by you. 

There is naught within the picture 

To destroy its purity 
For in childhood's blest affection 

Bides a sweet felicity 
Born of fragrant flowers and grasses, 

Fraught with true tranquillity. 
In those days we two were sweethearts 

Heeding not futurity. 

Now the schoolhouse doors swing open 

And with shouts of childish glee 
Rush the children forth to recess. 

Just as merry as can be, — 
Over there a boy is lingering 

By the door that he may see 
One who slowly saunters toward him — 

With smile you spoke to me. 



35 



Then my face grew red and redder 

As I stammered: "Howdy-do" 
Feeling like I'd midertaken 

What I didn't want to do. 
Yet before the teacher called us 

I had staggered, struggled through 
With a pompous declaration 

That I'd live or die for you. 

Just a modest coimtry painting 

Of a maiden smiling there 
Who believed my boyish fancy 

Would go with her everywhere. 
Just a little district schoolhouse 

Free from every human care 
Nestling close beside the forest 

Soothed by balmy woodland air. 



36 



THE TOILER 

IVe done my best 
Now let me rest 

Apart from life's harsh strife, 
Where the murmuring streams 
'Neath fair Cynthia's beams 

Console man's sorrowing life; 
Where the birds softly sing 
Free from every sad thing, 

Where the breezes of evening blow 
From over the hills 
With rapturous thrills. 

To the land of rest let me go. 



37 



THE IMMORTALITY OF POETRY 

Who says that poetry will die 
Declares the souls of men will die 
Declares the loves of souls will die 
Declares the God of love will die. 



S8 



THE DABBLER 

What a fool is the dabbler 

Who writes of soul-weeping, 
Whose heart all the while 

Is in merriment leaping; 
Who thinks to paint pictures 

Of slimy snakes creeping 
When he safe from woe 

Is in love's tender keeping. 

Not from him who of joy 

Is in fullness partaking 
Come shriekings and groanings, 

Life's blessings forsaking. 
'Tis only the whining 

Of one who is faking 
Soul-anguish. Mere dabbling! 

His heart is not aching. 

He pretends he is shuddering 

Hell's harbingers fearing, 
And boasts to his friends 

What an art he is nearing 
To counterfeit suff'ring 

E'en while life's endearing. 
He struts in his folly — 

But Time's face is leering. 



39 



He may fool his admirers 

Who worship his wonders, 
For they'd deem a dog's bark 

As deep as Jove's thunders. 
But there is a power 

Man's pretending soon sunders 
From masters of passion 

With low dabbling's blunders. 

From the heart of a master 

True poetry's spoken 
Because ev'ry word 

Of his life is a token; 
Each groan that is wrung — 

From a heart bleeding, broken; 
Each jubilant sound — 

From rejoicings love-woken. 

What vile messes these dabblers 

Have ever been spewing 
From heart putrefaction ! 

O Muses, renewing 
Your grasp on man's soul 

Save him from art's imdoing. 
Entice him away with 

Your eyes beauty wooing. 



40 



THE INDIVIDUAL 

Am I to be as others are because it seems to 

please — 
Am I to laugh when others laugh and sneeze 

when others sneeze? 
Shall I then live an ape's low life in imitation's 

quest — 
Or must I follow ceaselessly the thought within 

my breast? 

If I endeavor to perform my own peculiar task 
What right have others to complain, what more 

does nature ask? 
Is harmony to be obtained by leaving each his 

work 
Till all become mere idlers and mankind delights 

to shirk? 

O, cease your babblings! I must do as I myself 

desire. 
How can I listen to your words ! Up flares vexed 

reason's fire 
And threatens to consume my soul if I attempt 

to shrink 
From duty's path to follow you and think as 

others think. 

Each soul must play his instrument and learn to 

play it well 
Till all the trembling hearts of men rejoice and 

bosoms swell, 
Till love is King and peace abides upon earth's 

verdant sod 
And all are playing praises in the orchestra of God. 

41 



THE BROOK 

Free from life's troubles 

Its ripples and bubbles 
In innocent glee on its murmuring way; 

Frolicking, gliding, 

Upleaping and sliding 
Forever abiding 'mongst water nymphs gay; 

Flows the sweet spring rill 

E'er flowing to sing rill, 
That dances a fay rill through night and through 
day. 



42 



TOO LATE! 

We sat and talked about many things, 

Irrelevant things, 
And sipped our chocolate just as though 
The fleeting minutes would never go, — 
Remarking upon the current events 
While time was slashing in gaping rents 
Through which opportunity would fly 
Ere long past recall. Oh, why — Oh, why 
Did we sit and talk about many things. 

Apart from love things! 



43 



TO A DOG 

Small creature wagging your tail 

And looking at me with laughing eyes, 
With trusting, love-inviting eyes, — ■ 

With ears uplifted attentively, 
I love you. 

You'll soon be big and mighty 

With sinewy legs, unconquered jaws, 
With flashing eyes and gnashing jaws 

But you'll still be true to me, — 
I'll love you. 

Whether poor or rich you'll stay with me. 

At early morn you'll leap and bark before me. 
On my strolls you'll bound in glee before me. 

You'll be my dear friend till death. 
O, how I love you ! 

When I am sick you'll come unto my bed 
And look at me with sympathizing eyes, — 
You'll speak to me with anxious, loving eyes 

That beam with interest for my welfare. 
How then I'll love you ! 

When I am sad you'll walk with me beyond 
The city's streets along sweet country lanes. 
We'll enjoy together the flower-embroidered 
lanes 
And life will flee from sorrow's gloom 
Because I love you. 



44 



My future hours with you e'en now 

Enlighten me of many grievous burdens, 

My love for you drives off the soul of burdens 

And I approach tomorrows smilingly and joyfully 
As one who sees before him summer fields 
Of love. 

Through tickling grass kneedeep we'll brush 
Until we suddenly behold the tranquil lake 
Of silver gowned dreams, the many colored lake 
Where grassy banks await our wearied forms. 
'Tis there we'll sleep and dream of summer 
scenes 
Of love. 

Soft breezes on our cheeks will dance 
Inspiring sweeter rest, and merry birds 
Will trill with thrilling breasts, love gendered 
birds 
Whose throats forever throb with tingling tender- 
ness. 
There'll enter there no sleep destroying noise 
to mar 
Our dreams. 

You'll be to me all that I long for till 

Grasps death, cold unavoidable monster to the 
loves 
Of earth, and then we'll have to part nor sit again 
Communing with our souls close drawn 
In love. 



45 



You think I'm wrong? You mean we'll always be 
Dear soul-knit friends? My dog, my cheerful 
dog, 
Who knows that you are wrong in thinking so! 
At least, it cheers us both by hoping so. 
Come, lick my hand and vow we're bound 
By love. 



46 



OUT OF THE DARKNESS 

In the dark my reason wanders 
Ceaselessly seeking resting place. 
In the dark my reason ponders 
Whether there be a resting place. 
In the light my heart is leaping 
While the dark-born shadows creeping 
Leave me to my love's safe keeping, 
In the light of Luna's face. 



47 



TO A SQUIRREL 

O little squirrel, how nimbly you leap 

From bough to bough. 
Do you not fear, or does He keep 

Your feet from missing — 
On whom I often scowl? 

Along that slender branch you run 
As though such danger were fun, 

And laugh in glee 

From your perch at me, — 
Whisking your bushy tail in the air, — 
Off again skipping — as a bird in its flight 
Higher and higher beyond the might 

Of mortals to drag you down. 
And now on the topmost twig you are swinging 

Acting the part of a merry clown, 
Free from all care as you dodge around 
And laugh at the leafy, far distant ground. 



48 



THERE WAS A TIME 

There was a time when I wildly declared 
That I'd never again by love be ensnared, 

But that was before I knew 

I'd meet such a maiden as you. 

Because one was false I vowed I was through 
With girl whimperings, smiles, and caresses — 

But that was before I had ever seen you, 
And now all my curses are blesses. 

'Tis easy to say that a girl shall not rule 
By her love every thought of the youth. 

But when the test comes the youth is a fool 
And nothing save love is the truth. 

Yet where is the human deserving the name 
Who desires to be free from her power? 

We're all of us lovers and willing the same 
To be slaves of her smile every hour. 

I know I am foolish to those who are wise 
But their censure I'll never admire. 

For my heart will forever bow low to girls' eyes 
And my bosom burn hot with love's fire. 



40 



RUR RUR RE 

Rur nir re — lur rur re brooklet 
Frolicking gayly along, 

Mur rur re — moor roor re brooklet 
Gleefully gurgling thy song 
In soft, rippling delight, 
Ev'ry hour of the night. 
Drur rur re, 
Droor roor re 
Fearing no foe 
Forever dost flow 

Lur rur re — lur rur re on 

Rur rur re — rur rur re on. 
Mur rur re lur rur re, 
Lur rur re mur rur re 
Moor roor re loor roor re 
Loor roor re moor roor re 
Rur rur re rur rur re on 

Gracefully gliding toward dawn. 



60 



GOD IS MUSIC 

God is music. 

Harmony of blended symphony 
United to sweet rhythmic motion 

Sways the miiverse with palpitating thrills 
Till heav'n, and earth, and stars, and planets 
swing 

Through space by one consent to music flown, 
That they may pleasing be to Him, directing 
power 

With baton of eternal song. 

And now a lonely melody 

Doth from the stars arise, 
As though a sadd'ning agony 

Brings tears into their eyes, 
Yet with the softest harmony 

It glides across the skies. 

And now a thundering roar bounds high 

As from celestial rage, — 
It rumbles, tumbles through the sky 

Condemning earth and man to die, 
Makes ignorant earth's wisest sage 

And heav'nward soon doth fly. 

Ah ! now all loneliness is fled 

And thunder, too, is gone, 
And lo ! in peace earth lifts her head 

To view Aurora's dawn. 
The goddess comes with lips of red 

To press man's brow upon. 



51 



Arise ye fields, ye woodland realms — 

Lift high in harmony; 
Sing praises to ethereal power 

Of heavenly melody; 
Leap up and dance from dawn till dawn,- 

Praise music's majesty. 



52 



'TIS LOVE 

There is something within us. 
Within us and through us. 
All through us that rules us. 

What is it? 

'Tis love. 

There is something immortal. 
The life of each mortal 
That never shall vanish. 

What is it? 

'Tis love. 



53 



vows OF LOVE 

The vow quickly spoken 
Is easily broken 

When twilight's soft zephyrs are fled; 
For the heart has been captured, 
By fairies enraptured, 

Till reason skips off from the head. 

The vow slowly spoken 
Shall never be broken; 

Like stars* sparkling glory 'twill beam 
Gleaming ever toward Heaven, 
In purity given, 

Ennobling your life's every gleam. 



54 



TRANQUILLITY 

Tranquil is the heart of him 

Who loves the woodland bowers 
And in their close embrace delights 

To pass his leism'e hours 
Reclining on soft, downy grass 

Beneath wide spreading boughs 
For Joy dwells there and reigns supreme 

Nor Sorrow e'er allows 
To enter with his gloomy self 

Into those fair domains 
Of happiness, deep, thrilling peace 

Apart from human pains. 

Birds of varied plumage sing 

Amongst the emerald trees. 
And oft is heard low humming 

Of the honey-forming bees; 
The fishes splash in crystal pools 

And dart with merry glee 
While e'en the water gayly laughs 

With spriag's fehcity; 
Aloft lithe squirrels leap about 

At dizzy heights with ease, 
As though young birds they soar along 

Upheld by balmy breeze. 



55 



The silver brooklet sings its song 

Of forest children's love 
Untainted by the sin of man, 

Adorned by God above, — 
From mom till eve, from eve till mom. 

It glides in peace along 
Nor e'er desires to flee its place 

To taste the sweets of wrong; 
From whence it came it never asks 

Nor whither will it end. 
Its only thought : To flow in calm 

With Nature, tender friend. 

From meads nearby a fragrance comes 

And soothes the troubled breast. 
Until o'ercome by odors sweet 

The man lies down to rest. 
With violets round him blooming, blue 

As morning's azure skies. 
And when he wakes he sees the smile 

In nature's sparkling eyes, 
So calm, so tranquil, lovely, pure 

That up he springs all new, 
A creature changed by Nature's hand 

Into her lover true. 



56 



LIFE'S TOLL 

Sonnet 

The sultry summer day my sister died 
It seemed as though the very hell of woe 
Reeked up in hot oppressive fumes swirled, Oh ! 

So madly round my heart. I sought to hide 

Within philosophy's cold chamber wide 
Where I was urged by comforters to go. 
How hideously vain the quiet ! No 

Consoling nook in that room did abide. 

Half crazed I sprang into the struggling streets, 
Into the midst of heartbeats, sweating souls 
Whose faces told what bitter, biting tolls 

Were paid for living. Intermingled there 
With vast humanity's cause for despair 
I laughed. I live — ^why not pay my life's 
share. 



57 



LOVE'S ROSE-TWINED BOWERS 

Long twining vines of roses 

Weave fantastic crimson lace 
And 'tis there my love reposes 

'Neath Aurora's fairy face 
Till my heart aflame discloses 

To my eyes the charming place. 



58 



HELP US TO SEE 

No room for thee? O spirit Master 

Can it be 
That man's heart for aught else beats faster 

Than for thee ! 
Have earth's high flaring Hghts 

So dazzled him 
Heaven's glories, deathless sights, 

Seem dim! 
If so, O come, thou God of majesty; 
Somehow, somewhere draw near and help us see. 

No room for thee ! My ears are hearing 

Shrieks and groans 
Wrung from the bleeding souls of fearing 

Earthly thrones 
That tremble, totter, fall 

Because for thee 
No room was found. Man's all 

By thee 
Alone is held from woe. No room for thee! 
My God, my God, have grace, — help us to see. 



59 



THE WEE BIRD 

A wee bird swinging, swinging, swinging 
Was gently singing, singing, singing 

One afternoon 

In leafy month of June. 
His breast was thrilling, thrilling, thrilling — 
His notes were filling, filling, filling 
My heart with peace and joy divine. 
O, what an art, little bird, what an art is thine. 

The wind was blowing, blowing, blowing, 
'Twas coldly snowing, snowing, snowing — 
I came again — 

How harsh my heart's sharp pain! 
The bird was sighing, sighing, sighing 
While quickly dying, dying, dying 
His last sweet song was lisped with fainting 
breath. 
O, sad farewell, little bird! O, sad farewell in 
death. 



60 



THY WILL BE DONE 

'Tis easy, Lord, to say : Thy will be done, 

When life's fresh flowers bloom serenely fair 
And peace-fraught fragrance fling to morning's 
air 

For then I deem my fight with sorrow won; 

But when hot winds of failure ceaseless blow 
Till all my youthful flowers are withered, dead. 
And verdant hope from out my heart is fled. 

Into black realms of doubt and fear I go. 

Unlifting fogs of gloom enshroud my soul, 
And even longing prayer seems all in vain 
To ease this agonizing, piercing pain 

That over sin-tossed seas doth on me roll. 

Ah! how soon hast thou shone through, dis- 
pelling fear, — 
Thy will be done, my bark is thine to steer. 



61 



LOVE IS DEAD 

Silent stars beam overhead, 
Mournfully sounding zephyrs whisper, 
"Love is dead." 

Linger not to question why, 
But haste thee while the night enshrouds 
Or thou must die. 



62 



DECEIVED 

I thought you loved me more than this 
When first I pressed a lover's kiss 

Upon your girlish lips, 
But now I see how false you were, — 
And I can never follow her 

Who like the chamois skips. 



63 



MY SWEETHEART 

Invisible thou art, 

Sweetheart; 
Unembraced thou'lt ever be 

O sweetheart; 
Unloved thou'lt never be 

My sweetheart. 



64 



THE OLD SWIMMIN'HOLE 

If you want to find the happiest place 

In all the world, 
Just come with me some afternoon 

To the old swimmin' hole. 

It's not very far, three or four miles 
Over the railroad track, — 

And oh ! how good that water looks 
In the old swimmin' hole. 

When you've stripped off your clothes 

And dived from the bank 
I know you'll say it's the merriest place, 

In the old swimmin' hole. 

When you first jump in the water's cold 
But what do you care for that? 

You soon get used to the water's chill 
In the old swimmin' hole. 

All your sorrows go floating away 
Down with the rippling water, 

You can't be sad when you're out there 
In the old swimmin' hole. 

Sometimes you float along on your back 

And look up into the sky 
And wish you could swim there forever 

In the old swimmin' hole. 



65 



And then you roll in the sand on the bank 

My! isn't that sand hot! 
But it all comes off when you take a dive 

In the old swimmin' hole. 

When at last you decide to go out 

Someone's tied your clothes in knots, 

Such pranks are always in order 
At the old swimmin' hole. 

You're all in a rage and say lots o' things 

You don't mean to say 
But when you start home you leave anger there, 

In the old swimmin' hole. 

Say, come with me, — won't you, some afternoon? 

You'll never regret it. 
Let's leave all this worry and have a good swim 

In the old swimmin' hole. 



G6 



SONNET 

'Twere better never to have lived than feel 
When death draws near no tender chord vibrate 
Within the heart because a sweeter state 

Of joy awaits. If night did not reveal 

Heav'n*s beaming lights in grand, sublime array 
Of myriad hues, celestial splendors strewn 
In wondrous ways around the silver moon. 

With aching hearts we'd rue departed day. 

A black abyss doth yawningly appear 
Before his eyes who meditates on death, 
Unless from God*s pure atmosphere each breath 

Imbibes a nobler faith, and then no fear 

Low crushes him; clear marble stairs ascend 
For him and softest sounds forever blend. 



67 



'TIS BUT MY SPIRIT 

It is not I who grieve, 

'Tis but my spirit 
Long striving to weave 

A garland and wear it 
Of fancy's filmy roses. 

It is not I who moan, 

'Tis but my spirit 
In quest of a throne; 

None found cannot bear it, — 
'Mongst flowers no more reposes. 



68 



WAIT! 

Wait! 

Be not in such a maddened hurry 
To rush into the throng. 

Wait till your time arrives, 
'Twill not be overlong. 

W^aste not your heart in futile worry. 



69 



SONNET 

To stumble man needs not Gibraltar's might 
Against him hurled; one little trifling stone 
Unseen upon his path will make him groan 

Low, prostrate fallen. Foes beneath our sight 

Lurk grinning in their cunning snake delight, 
Because they know mankind doth watch alone 
The giant powers of sin, — then to dethrone 

His manhood strike a blow that seemeth slight. 

A needle point with poison fraught doth slay 
More deadly than Damascus blade; a sting 
From insect passes eagle's rage to bring 

A Herculean form quick death. O, pray, 

My soul, that thou through God may learn to 

see 
These enemies that lie in wait for thee. 



70 



TO A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG LADY 

Sonnet 

Your loveliness has oft been praised by pen 
More skilled than mine can hope to be, — ^but 

still, 
Sweet incarnation of pure beauty, will 

You spurn these feeble words? You are to men 

A light out-gleaming far to guide us when 
Life's lowering clouds obscure the way. We see 
Your noble rays and face the storm with glee 

Of those who lost have found truth's course again. 

Let artists paint your queenly form, — the thrill 
Of viewing you can ne'er be told by me. 

I struggle for a fitting phrase until 
Despondency enshrouds, black misery 

Of failure. O, this wretched, wayless fen ! 

Stay — earth life soon will pass, — I'll tell you then. 



71 



THE POET 

The poet sits in his room 
While the gathering gloom 
Of twilight draws near, 
And the universes of space 
Come near 
His chair. 
Brush softly against his face 
And play in his hair. 



72 



CHRISTMAS 

Incomprehensible to mortal minds 

This day when thou, O Christ, became for man 
Man's image following immortal plan 

Must aye remain. Man only knows he finds 

In it sweet shelter from the howling winds 
Of bitter fate. Protected he doth scan 
Fast flying ages since the world began 

Till now, — this day to life his being binds. 

The calendar of time inscribed in gold 

Marks this the King of days, the day beheld 

By olden prophets and bowed down before. 

Permitted thus to see, our eyes behold 

A dazzling radiance, — our hearts are swelled 

To bursting. God ! have grace — reveal no more. 



73 



THE EGOTIST 

No matter what he heard or read 
He always stroked his chin and said, 
" I've something better in my head. " 



74 



LOVED I THEE MORE 

Loved I thee more, O God, 

As now I stand beneath the lights of Heaven, 
My heart would not be riven 

By despair, 
The demon of this mortal sod; 

I would not care 
So much to see the pleasing nod 

Of men's approval; I would not be 

The victim of earth's frailty, 
Loved I thee more, O God. 

Loved I thee more, O Lord 

When failure's hideous might whirls near to 

slay me, 
My will would not betray me 

To black sin, 
To torture of its slashing sword; 

Above the din. 
The blatant din of fiery horde. 

Would rise serenely the voice of hope, 

"Forsake the fen, mount sunlit slope." 
Loved I thee more, O Lord. 



75 



AS THE SUN ARISES 

As the sun arises in splendor 

On this peaceful, balmy mom, 
May my life, O God, sweet praises render 

To thee who dost yon skies adorn. 
As those clouds reflect Sol's glory 

Painted in a rosy hue, 
May I reflect thy glory 

In all I think and do. 

Phoebus, Lord, is mounting higher 

Driving away the lingering shades of night 

And as they flee 

I pray of thee 

That my soul may increase in might. 

Till my eyes emit a holy light. 
As doth yon flaming orb of fire. 

'Tis day. The glory of dawn has fled, 

The world awakes and shakes its drowsy head. 
It stretches and yawns as a lazy child 

While the chariot of fire rushes on. 
May my life, O Christ, be calm, be mild 

Oh, may I start at early dawn 
And run with faith my race each day 

Trusting in thee to guide me o'er the way. 



76 



WE FEEL 

We do not know, O God. How could we know 

With finite minds infinity! 
And yet we feel, no matter where we go. 

The presence of thy sovereignty. 

We call thee Jupiter, Jehovah, God 

And many an other earthly name. 
We say vast universes heed thy nod. 

That everything from thee once came. 

Great, all inclusive seK, we say thou art. 

From whence all creature selves have come 

Endowed with soul, and brain, and beating heart 
From thee, our spirits' primal home. 

Not utterly estranged are we from thee. 
E'en though our little minds are weak; 

Our tongues but lisp our frail humanity, — 
The souls within us soon shall speak. 

The spirits round us, in us, whereso'er 
They be, released and unrestrained. 

Shall pierce wide kingdoms of unbounded air. 
And perfect speech shall be obtained. 

Ah! then, or power or personality, 

Whate'er thou art our minds shall know. 

And we from time and space by death set free 
Will into thine inclusion grow. 



77 



What matters then the name we call thee by ! 

Why wage our petty wars on earth; 
We are but men who live and know not why. 

Who trust we have celestial birth. 

We are but men, — calamity? Oh, no! 

High gift is our humanity. 
We do not fret because we do not know. 

Because we feel thy sovereignty. 



78 



OUR COUNTRY 

Our country, widely reaching land, 

Inhaling *neath clear warless skies 
God's air of freedom fair and grand. 

Admired by other nations' eyes. 
Take care that all thy grandeur, power. 
Be not hurled low by one wild hour, — 
Take care that freedom's fragrant flower 
Be not decayed in sin's black bower. 

O, may thy children not be fools 

Who gaze but on thy brilliant ways, 
Forgetting men can be hell's tools. 

Forgetting truth in pleasure's blaze. 
Take care, though mighty now thou art, 
That sin probe not into thy heart 
Injecting poison, — that woe's dart 
Cause not thy glory to depart. 

Thy beauties are as manifold 

As sparkling stars on heaven's face; 
Thine arms a vast creation hold 

Of people strong in modern race — • 
And yet, and yet take care — take care 
That thou fall not into the snare 
Laid for the nation debonair, 
Whose children follow folly's glare. 



n 



There must be strength within thy form 

Beyond the power of sin to mar, 
A strength resisting every storm 

Whirled by thy foes from near and far. 
Thou must take care in spite of all 
Fond praises showered, that bitter gall 
Be not thy drink in failure's hall. 
Because thou'st answered folly's call. 

Let not our homes become in vain 
To rear a sturdy race of men, — 

Let us not think bad blood's foul stain 
Will not destroy our splendor then. 

O country dear, lead us aright 

Along the ways where gleams truth's light, 

Nor let us wander in the night 

Away from purity's sweet sight. 

O may we be from sea to sea. 

From Gulf to Lakes, hour after hour, 
Day after day more true to thee, 

More consecrated to thy flower, 
That it may bloom, fairest of fair, 
With petals kissed by peaceful air. 
Its fragrance pure and lovely, rare, 
To be destroyed by conflict, — ^ne'er! 



60 



